


The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Animal Transformation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy would not have said he believed in curses, but then he gets stalked by a squirrel, so he is willing to admit he's wrong about this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't done an animal transformation fic in a while, right? Gotta maintain my brand. But actually Brit and I were watching Princess Tutu and wanted "we are arguing but you KEEP FORGETTING YOU'RE NAKED" in a fic and if it's Princess Tutu inspired then animal transformation is kind of a requirement tbh.

Bellamy might have a history of helping out small, injured animals.

It's not an _extensive_ history, but that would be kind of hard to actually develop. After all, the opportunity only presents itself so often. And, if he's honest, he hasn't always been _good_ at it. When you're eight and you find a baby bird out of its nest, you aren't necessarily prepared to actually save its life, even if you really want to.

At twenty-two, he hasn't attempted to save anything in a while, but, as it turns out, that was just because it hadn't come up in a while.

And, in his defense? The squirrel is totally _stalking him_.

He first notices it on his way into his Greek class, and makes a note of it as a kind of weird thing. The squirrel is walking in the same direction as he is, with a slightly unnatural gait, and it's definitely odd, but a lot of the squirrels on campus have gotten pretty cocky about food, and he does have a bagel. So he tosses it the remains of his breakfast before he goes into the building, on the grounds that its dedication has earned a reward, and figures that's the end.

The class ends eighty minutes later and the squirrel is still there. It's then that he notices it's hurt, really hurt, a gash in its side that must have caused its limp. And, of course, once he notices that, it's all over, because he can't just leave an injured animal. Especially if it's so injured it didn't even leave after it ate his bagel.

He waits until the other students have mostly cleared out before he approaches. He hasn't ever caught an animal that's as aware as the squirrel seems to be, but he's got his sweatshirt out and he's pretty sure he can throw it on there.

He's not saying this is a _good_ plan. It's just a plan.

Before he can make his move, the squirrel tilts its head, squeaks, and runs at him. He doesn't have time to do anything, and he's expecting a vicious bite and some rabies shots in his future, but the attack doesn't come. Instead, the squirrel scampers up his jeans and t-shirt and settles on his shoulder, like it's planning to stay. It looks a little winded, like the attempt was too much with its injuries, and Bellamy sort of stares for a second.

"Uh," he finally says. "Hi."

The squirrel doesn't respond, but he probably wouldn't be shocked if it did at this point. This is some weird shit.

"So, you need some bandages or something?" he asks. He starts walking, mostly to see if the squirrel will panic and claw the shit out of him, but it doesn't. It hooks its little feet in his shoulder and holds on. It is, honestly, kind of cool. He's always wanted to be one of those fantasy characters with an animal companion. He doesn't know why this squirrel has chosen him, but it feels like childhood dreams coming true. "I'm going to google _injured squirrel_ and it's not going to help at all."

Not surprisingly, he gets some odd looks and obvious double-takes as he walks across campus, and he does his best to ignore it. Probably he'll show up on tumblr and Octavia will see the post and make fun of him. That sounds likely.

Once they're in his room, he arranges his sweatshirt like a nest, and the squirrel scampers off his shoulder and settles in, displaying its injured side for him as if it knows he wants to examine it. Which, fuck, maybe it does. It was hanging out on his shoulder, maybe it really does want help.

All of his google searches about injured squirrel care recommend that he bundle the thing in something sturdy and bring it to a vet, which would both seem like really good ideas if it was acting in any way like a normal squirrel.

"You want to go to the vet?" he asks it, and it shakes its head. Very clearly. "Yeah, I thought not. I've got some antiseptic, but it's going to hurt." He leans in to inspect it; the gashes aren't very deep, and it looks more painful than life-threatening, as an injury. He'd guess it got hit by a swipe of cat claws and then escaped before the predator could finish the job. "Don't bite me, okay?" he says. "I'm going to wash it out first."

He gets warm water on a hand towel in the bathroom, and part of him expects the squirrel to be gone when he gets back, but it's just where he left it. Which is probably for the best, because the last thing he wants is a wild squirrel hiding somewhere in his room, waiting to jump out and bite him later.

"Okay, like I said, I'm washing it out first," he tells the squirrel, mostly for his own benefit. He's still about seventy-five percent sure he's going to get rabies.

He presses the towel against the squirrel's side, and--something definitely happens. There's a kind of strange _pop_ sound and suddenly Clarke Griffin is curled on his desk, her still injured, but less so.

And naked.

It feels like the whole world stops for a second, but it's probably just his heart. Then Clarke unfolds herself, sitting up and grinning and--still _naked_.

He and Clarke are nominally enemies, but they've been enemies for long enough to now count as a kind of friends. She joined the college council when she was a freshman and he was a junior, and they started out fighting over everything for real and morphed fairly quickly into fighting over everything out of habit and teaming up against anyone who tried to cross them.

He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about her naked, but he'd always felt guilty about it. And he'd never really thought about her naked in this context. Because--

"What the fuck, Clarke!" he says, looking at the ceiling.

"What did you do?" she asks. She doesn't sound angry--if anything, she sounds grateful--but he is really not in the mood for that question.

"What did _I_ do?" he snaps.

"Not like that. You broke the curse!"

It's a bizarre enough statement that his gaze snaps back to her, and then he looks away again because she's _still naked_. She's cleaning off the scratches on her side like she sits on his desk with no clothes on all the time.

"Curse? Seriously, what the fuck."

"I don't know! I was a squirrel and now I'm not. What's on the washcloth?"

"Warm water. You're naked, by the way," he points out. Maybe she still has--squirrel brain. Or something.

"I want to get this cleaned," she says. There's a pause and then she adds, "But yeah, if I could borrow some clothes--"

It gives him something to do aside from pointedly not looking at her, which is a relief. He finds a t-shirt and then isn't sure what else to give her. She doesn't have undergarments or anything. Does she want boxers? Are boxers appropriate here?

"So, you're cursed," he says, while he's still looking.

"Apparently not anymore."

"For how long?"

"Just since this morning."

"Not much of a curse."

"You try being a squirrel for five hours."

"I'm just saying. You didn't even have to go on a quest."

There's a pause, and then she says, "You're taking this really well."

"I'm not letting myself freak out. It's taking a lot of effort. How did it happen?"

Another pause. "I think I pissed off this girl I slept with." He gapes, and she gives him a sheepish smile. "I know, I know."

"Why a squirrel?" he finally asks.

"I'll try to ask her. I'm ready for clothes whenever."

He got her kind of a variety--a couple t-shirts, some shorts, some boxers--and he hands them over while resolutely not looking at her. "How did you get to me?" he thinks to ask. Because--she did come to him. She tracked him down. She _waited_ for him.

"I figured you'd help," she says. Her voice sounds a little off, but she is getting dressed. "I had a run-in with a cat and I needed someone to patch me up. You seemed like you'd do it."

"Huh," he says. He can't argue, because he _did_ , of course. He's totally that guy. But he had no idea Clarke knew that. It's pretty cool she does.

"You can look again," she says, and when he turns, it doesn't feel that much safer than when she was naked. His clothes are baggy on her, and it looks like she slept over and stole some of his stuff. Which is--yeah. Way too much.

"So, how did you decide you were cursed?" he asks.

"I turned into a squirrel, Bellamy. That's a curse. That's the definition of a curse. And--okay, if people just spontaneously turned into animals sometimes, we'd know that, right?"

"But if curses are real, we wouldn't."

"Not--it's different, right? It makes less sense if this was just a random, unrelated incident."

He hates that he not only follows her logic, but agrees with it. "And what random thing fixed you?"

"I don't know," she admits. "But it's over, right?"

"Let us never speak of this again?" he offers, weak, because what the fuck else is there to _say_? She apparently got cursed to turn into a squirrel, and now she's not a squirrel. Problem solved. Teamwork.

"Definitely not," she says. "Do you have any more classes today?"

"No."

She nods. "Cool. I'm going to go shower and put on my own clothes. Want me to come back with booze?"

He has plenty of things he could be doing, but he definitely needs a drink, and if _he's_ feeling like that, he can't even imagine how bad it is for her. He had to witness her squirrel curse; she had to live it.

"Solid plan," he says. "See you soon."

*

It feels weird writing off _Clarke turned into a squirrel_ as some random fluke occurrence, but since Clarke seems to want to do that, it feels like it's only polite to go along with her. It's probably something she is actively trying to repress. He shouldn't get in the way of that. He'd be repressing too.

But three days later, he's chatting with Gina from his philosophy class when she stops mid-sentence and stares at his shoulder. He noticed a weird kind of tugging on his shirt, but he was halfheartedly attempting to flirt, so it didn't seem pressing.

Now there's a squirrel on his shoulder, though, which is one of those things that he's relatively certain girls are not into.

"You've, uh--" Gina starts. "You've got something--"

"Yeah. I fed her a few days ago so I guess we're friends now," he says, like this is anything like a reasonable explanation. It's at least an improvement on the truth.

"I didn't know that worked."

"Yeah, neither did I. Total surprise."

Clarke squeaks at him, which is kind of rude but, as always, she's a squirrel, so her issue kind of trumps his. He's pretty sure she'd do the same for him.

"I think she's hungry again," he says. "So I'm just gonna--"

"Obviously," says Gina. "That's what I do when squirrels climb on me."

"Yeah." It's an unsalvageable situation, so he just manages a kind of dorky wave before he takes off. Far from his finest moment, but--extenuating circumstances.

"What did you do?" he hisses at Clarke, uselessly, because it's not like she can answer him. "Don't you have other friends?" Then he realizes he's hissing at a squirrel riding his shoulder, which is really not a good place to be with his life. He opens up his messenger bag. "Will you at least get in here so everyone doesn't think I'm some weird squirrel whisperer?"

She seems to think it over, but not for long. She skitters down his shirt and settles into the bag contentedly, which is--god, his life is weird.

"Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern," he informs her, and it's probably just as well she can't respond.

He unloads her onto his bed and goes to the bathroom to wet another towel. It seems like a weird way to break a curse, but he guesses if it had really broken it, she wouldn't be a squirrel again. So maybe it just resets the curse. Puts it on a three-day time delay, or--

He scrubs his hand over his face. First, he can see if this works. Then he and Clarke can figure out why it works, and why it stopped working.

Assuming she wants his help. But she did come to him.

"Hopefully this still works," he says, and presses the cloth against her side.

As with before, she changes back with a pop, and as with before, she's naked. Which he somehow _forgot_ , or at least didn't think about.

"Jesus!" he says, and actually jumps back.

"That was supposed to happen! Why are you confused?" She seems to realize she's naked this time, at least, and tugs his covers up over her breasts. Which just gives him a too-vivid idea of what she'd look like waking up in his bed, and--god, he does not need that right now.

"I'm not," he says, glad when it comes out more annoyed than petulant. "But--what the fuck, seriously? I thought we fixed it."

"So did I. Apparently I was wrong."

He crosses his arms. "So, what did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"I've never gotten turned into a squirrel. Clearly one of us is living our life wrong, and I'm pretty sure it's you." She opens her mouth, and he can't help adding, "And you're the one who climbed on me and made me look like some weirdo who communes with wild animals, so don't be a dick."

She pauses, apparently thinking it over. "Sorry I cockblocked you."

"It was pretty legit," he admits. He leans against his desk. "So, seriously, is this a new curse or the same curse?"

"I think same curse? I don't know."

"You don't _know_?"

"How would I know?" she snaps.

He rubs his face. "You didn't ask?"

"Ask who?"

"Whoever cursed you! I thought you knew!"

She flushes. "I don't--I mean, I know, but I don't _know_."

"Uh huh."

"That's why she cursed me. We slept together and I forgot her name."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, like you've never done that!" Clarke says, flailing, and the sheet falls down. "I've heard exactly how good you are at relationships, so don't even act like--"

"Naked," he manages, and averts his eyes as she squeaks and pulls the blanket back up.

It sets the tone pretty well for Clarke's next few squirrel experiences. Which is one of those things he never planned to have to think. Random animal transformation wasn't supposed to be part of his life.

Neither was naked Clarke.

It feels like the kind of thing he should get used to, at some point. Once it's happened enough. But every time he's still--well, he really _wants_ to look at her naked, so it can't just get to be normal. And she'll just kind of forget, once she gets annoyed or excited, and suddenly they're in the middle of an argument and whatever she was using to cover herself falls down and--yeah, his life has gotten so weird.

She starts leaving clothes in his room so she has them when she changes back, but they always seem to end up bickering before she has the chance. It's just--he feels like he should be following her around so they can figure out the pattern of her transformations. It's tied to her love life, that's for sure, but she can't figure out exactly how, and he's not sure either.

"It doesn't help that I only change when I'm alone," she says. She's lying stretched across his bed, her arm flung over her face. She's wearing clothes, but it's almost as bad seeing how comfortable she is in his space.

This isn't the kind of experience that should make him want her more, but somehow it is. He's never claimed to have good taste.

"Well, okay," she corrects. "It helps because I really don't want anyone to see, but it sucks for figuring out the trigger. It's definitely tied to sex, but--"

"But?"

"But I haven't gotten laid in weeks. So it's getting triggered by me talking about it."

"So talk about it. I can leave after every statement and we'll see which ones get it."

She smiles. "I thought about that. But--we've talked about it plenty. And I've never changed after talking to you."

It's weirdly flattering, but also good data. Because she has told him all sorts of--

"Do you lie to other people?" he asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Well, most of what you tell me is shitty, but you're honest about it."

"Wow. Thanks, Bellamy."

"I'm serious. Did you pretend to know the girl's name?"

There's a pause. "Yeah. I usually do."

"I would too. But--you tend to tell me what you actually did. And a lot of the time it's--"

"Bullshitting," Clarke supplies. She sits up, looking excited. "You might have a point."

"I'm pretty smart."

"I want to make fun of you, but, honestly, yeah. That's a really good idea."

"Okay, so--test. Lie to me about one of your hookups and then I'll leave, and if you change--"

"Yeah," she says, but she's quiet.

"What?"

She worries her lip on a strange smile. "I don't like lying to you," she admits.

"Really?"

"I never need to. I just say all my bad shit and we make fun of each other and--I like that. I like that you know about me and don't--that I never have to lie."

His mouth goes dry. "I'll know it's a lie," he points out. "So it doesn't really count."

"Yeah." She sits up and pats the space next to her on the bed, waiting until he comes back to continue. "You know why I don't date?"

"I didn't think you needed a reason."

"So, first there was this guy. And he lied to me. But not--" She huffs. "I know it's shitty to forget someone's name and pretend you didn't, but if you can actually fake it, that's better than telling them you forgot, right?"

"I'm not really a moral authority. But it's what I'd do, yeah."

"So, he didn't tell me he had another girlfriend."

"Yeah, that's worse."

"Thanks. That was Greg, my last boyfriend. I found out he had another girlfriend, dumped him, but--he broke up with her and told me he loved me more and tried really hard to get back in my good graces. And--he was getting there."

"Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

"He was convincing, right? Maybe he wasn't genuine, but I don't know. Was he?"

"I think so. But he pulled a dumb prank on this girl to try to impress me and it ended up hurting someone. Not--no one died or anything. But I realized he never really thought about other people? And it's not actually good, being the exception to something like that. Which I didn't realize until I started dating Helena."

"Last girlfriend?"

"Yeah. He pulled the prank on her. We were kind of--friendly rivals. Like you, but not as fun."

It's kind of promising that she dated someone like him, he has to admit. "I'm fun?"

"What, we're not having fun?" she teases, and he laughs.

"Tons. So, Helena."

"She was serious all the time. And I thought it was, I don't know. Cool? Like she was a badass. But a lot of the time she was just an asshole. And then she--we were up for the same summer fellowship, and she went behind my back and made a deal with one of the guys on the selection committee. It was so sketchy. But--" She sighs. "We got back to school in fall, and she talked me around. Convinced me it was--what I would have done. And when I said it was bullshit, she said she'd do better. And I believed her, until I didn't. I realized I couldn't trust her to ever--I didn't know how much of what she said was true and how much was just trying to do what I wanted. And I realized even when she was being cool to me, she was still shitty with other people. But what does it say about me, that two people I thought I loved lied to me and I let them talk me back into giving them another shot?"

He doesn't really know what to say, because--he might not trust his instincts, after something like that. But she didn't do anything wrong, either. She just had too much faith. It's hard to think of that as a bad thing.

He's still trying to formulate a response when she pats his leg. "Figure it out in the hallway."

His stomach drops. "Wait, what part of that was a lie? That affects my answer."

"None of the important parts. But I don't want to tell you in case it messes up the test."

He makes a face. "You'll tell me later, right?"

"I'll tell you later."

He goes to the bathroom, washes his face, buys a Coke from the vending machine, and when he gets back, there's a squirrel on his bed.

"Seriously," he asks, while she's getting dressed. "What was the lie?"

"Just the names," she says, and he feels her against his back, and then the press of her lips against his cheek. "Everything else was true."

She's moved away again before he's even gotten a chance to appreciate having her so close.

"What is it with you and names?" he grumbles, mostly as a cover for how he's blushing. "Are you dressed yet?"

"Yeah. You can stop being polite."

"Good, it's really hard for me." He turns to smile at her. "So, it's about lying."

"Which really sucks, honestly. I was trying to be better at--I didn't want to hurt people like I got hurt. I feel bad for forgetting a name, but it's not like I wasn't upfront about what I was looking for. One night, and I left before she went to sleep. So--"

"So I don't think you're a bad person. I think maybe you have shitty taste, but--I'd try to learn from it instead of giving up." He smirks. "One is a mistake, twice is a pattern."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Look, it doesn't say bad things about you that you're willing to give people another chance. But it says shitty things about your friends that they didn't help out. I would have definitely helped you get a read on that situation."

Her smile is wry. "I'm not great at talking about this stuff."

"Really?"

"This was kind of a special circumstance. Between the curse and--" She looks away, turning a little pink. "You're easy to talk to. I don't know."

"Cool. I like being easy to talk to." He pauses, but leans down, takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "I think you're good, Clarke. You got unlucky, but--I think you can probably avoid triggering the curse from now on."

"So I have to tell the truth about my sex life for the rest of my life?" she asks.

"Unless you remember that girl's name and convince her to lift it, yeah."

"I guess." She wets her lips. "Well, um--thanks for your help, Bellamy. If you ever get cursed, I definitely owe you, so--"

His heart lurches. He hadn't quite realized that she'd be gone, once this was sorted out. If she's not turning into a squirrel, she doesn't have any reason to hang out with him. They're not really _friends_.

"Right," he manages. "Will do. Later, Clarke."

Her hand is still in his, and she squeezes once before she lets go. "Later."

*

A week later, he gets back to his dorm and sees a squirrel waiting on the stairs.

"Shit, did we not figure it out?" he asks, trying not to sound too excited, and she scampers up onto his shoulder. "Or did you just forget? Honesty is the best policy, Clarke."

They figured out that just water would do it, no need for the towel, so he fills up his nalgene in the bathroom and flicks some on her once she's on his bed.

"I didn't think it would happen!" she says, and snaps his eyes up to the ceiling. At least his reflexes are still sharp.

"Good thing you left some clothes. What happened?"

"Um."

He gets the clothes out of his closest and tosses them at her with his eyes closed. "What?"

"I, um--my friend wanted to set me up? And I said I was good. She asked if I was--you know. Interested in anyone else."

"And you said yes to get out of it and next thing you know--"

"No, that's--I said no." 

"No?" he asks.

"I told her I wasn't interested in anyone." He's expecting a follow-up, but instead she says, "You can open your eyes."

When he does, she's not dressed. She's sitting on his bed with the sheets pulled up to block her again, and she's biting her lip, clearly nervous. But--sure. And still naked.

"Clarke," he says.

"I couldn't figure out how to keep hanging out with you. Which sucked, because I really--I like you."

"Oh."

"It's cool if you don't," she says quickly. "I'll put my clothes back on and--"

"Oh, whoa, no. Don't put your clothes back on. Absolutely, seriously--" She's starting to smile, so he does too. "You should leave your clothes off."

She laughs, ducks her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulder. "I'm not great at love confessions. Usually other people make the first move, so I don't have a lot of experience."

"Yeah, yeah. Brag about it." His legs finally start working, and he goes over to the bed, sits down next to her. "I like you too," he adds, just to be safe. "I really missed you."

"Awesome," she says, and tugs him in.

"You better not turn into a squirrel before we're done," he murmurs against her mouth.

She grins. "No promises."

*

It's three months later when they run into Niylah. Bellamy and Niylah aren't particularly close, but they had a class together last semester and both wanted to murder everyone else in their group project, so it was kind of a bonding experience. And she was basically cool. He liked her well enough.

He doesn't expect Clarke to stiffen at the sight of her, or for Niylah to look between the two of them, like she's trying to decide if she needs to be pissed at someone.

"Hey Niylah," he tries.

"You didn't have to say it," says Niylah. "I wanted to see if she'd figure it out."

"I said I was sorry!" Clarke bursts out. "And you cursed me!"

"Wait, _you_ cursed her?" Bellamy asks.

"You knew?" Niylah asks, looking unnerved.

"I'm the go-to guy when you're a cursed injured animal, apparently." He pauses and adds, "At least so far. Don't give out my name or anything."

"I'm really sorry," Clarke says. "But--can you take it off?"

"It isn't that hard to avoid," says Niylah, cool/.

"No, but--I'd rather not worry about it."

"Yeah, me too," Bellamy says.

Clarke blinks. "You don't want to worry about it?"

Niylah also looks confused, and he shrugs. "If Clarke needs to lie to me about our relationship, I'd rather she could just do it. I trust her. I'm pretty sure if she lied, she'd have a good reason. And then just she'd have to find a water source to stop being a squirrel, which isn't even that hard. So it's not even a huge deterrent."

"I love you too," says Clarke, dry, and it's not the first time she's said it, but it's awesome every time.

"So, you want your girlfriend to be able to lie to you," Niylah clarifies.

"Yeah. I can lie to her, so it seems kind of unfair."

"I said I was sorry, right?" Clarke asks. "Honestly, I might have even thought _Niylah_ for a second and then decided it wasn't a real name."

Bellamy snorts. "See? You're better off when she lies to cover her ass."

But he thinks Niylah is actually looking pretty charmed. Not that he blames her; he's heard they're pretty adorable.

"It sounds like you're doing a lot better," she says. "And--it wasn't the most proportionate response. I was having a bad day, and you upset me. But--I didn't actually know your last name to look you up and reverse the spell."

"Jesus, you guys are a fucking mess. Clarke Griffin, Niylah Arnold. You should probably exchange contact information, just to be safe."

"In case you fuck up and I need to get you cursed," Clarke teases. But she smiles at Niylah. "Do you maybe want to get a drink and tell us where you learned that trick?"

It's a fairly surreal afternoon--somehow knowing the witch who cursed his girlfriend is even weirder than having a cursed girlfriend in the first place--but by the end, Niylah and Clarke seem to have bonded, and Niylah says the curse is lifted.

"You want to try it out?" Bellamy asks, once they're back in his room.

"I don't love you anymore," she says, without looking up from her book. "Go into the hall."

"Harsh," he says, and gives it a full minute before he goes back in.

Clarke's still on the bed where he left her, but she is naked.

"I figured we could get the nudity without the squirrel step," she says, and he laughs and pushes her down for a long kiss.

"Cut out the middle man," he agrees. "You're going to lie to me all the time now, right?"

"All the time. Get excited."

"Can't wait," he says, and he really does mean it.


End file.
